


With a View

by mresundance



Series: Hannibal Flash Fics [17]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mresundance/pseuds/mresundance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal has an unusual way of trying to extort -- er, propose marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a View

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted here.](http://mresundance.tumblr.com/post/139149734982/bu0nanotte-warpedchyld-snatchedweaves-room-with)

“Hannibal?”

“Yes, Will?”

“What the hell – no – what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

It’s an entirely rhetorical question. Will doesn’t want to know, will never want to know, and wants to know even less as Hannibal begins explaining something about some obscure courtship ritual in some obscure part of some obscure country somewhere – Will just doesn’t want to know. 

He also really wants Hannibal, naked, half dangling from the balcony by both hands, and half splayed like a frog, one foot on the railing of their balcony, the other foot planted over the mantel of the balcony door – he really wants Hannibal to stop displaying his ass like this. At him, in particular.

“Okay,” Will says yearning already for aspirin, though it’s only 9 am in Edinburgh, and fucking freezing. Will is surprised Hannibal’s dick hasn’t withered off in the cold. 

“Okay,” he says again, because he sees Hannibal drawing breath to resume talking. “Fine, goddammit. _Fine.”_

“Fine what, Will?”

“I’ll marry you.”

“I don’t believe I heard you. It is rather windy.”

That massive cock. Metaphorically and otherwise. For once there is not really a breeze, not even enough to stir a dry leaf. 

Will sighs. Aspirin plus whiskey then. The nice stuff from the distillery down the lane. Hannibal will buy. 

“I. Will. Marry. You. Now get back in here.”

He tries to sound at least a little grumpy but fails. 

Hannibal bounces after Will and into their flat, his hair cheerfully ruffled and chafed skin rather happily pink, considering all his recent and self imposed troubles. 

“I hate you,” Will grumbles, picking up his morning tea again.

“I know,” Hannibal says, leaning in to nuzzle Will with one very cold nose.


End file.
